


Familiar Skies

by FoxtrotBravoAlpha



Category: Project Wingman (Video Game)
Genre: Fighter Pilots, Gen, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:54:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29704350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxtrotBravoAlpha/pseuds/FoxtrotBravoAlpha
Summary: A small collection of stories following Hawk Team's members while working for Prey Security before the Cascadian War. Tie in with Northern Skies found here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28727115/chapters/70435014





	Familiar Skies

**430 A.C., Early Summer** **  
** **AFB Midtown, Rzeki Federal Republic**

**Mercenary Quarters of AFB Midtown…**

  
  


Although he had been told constantly by his previous team leader alongside both his own wingman and other peer pilots, Marcus was woefully unprepared for the sheer amount of paperwork that accompanied the post of Hawk Team’s lead position. He was, for the first time for a long while, completely and utterly exhausted. From that exhaustion, his shoulders were hung low and his eyelids drooped, as if both were weighed down by the concrete slabs below his boo-

“Hey Marcus, you look like hammered shit,” his wingman called out. “Was the paper work really that bad?” From his right-hand side, Andy placed a hand on Marcus’s shoulder and forced him to slow down as they walked to the shared barracks of Hawk’s flight teams.

“I fuckin’ feel like it, Derrick… My wrist is fuckin’ killing me.” Marcus held up his right forearm and semi-limp hand, massaging his wrist with his left hand. Andy cracked a smile and gave a small chuckle in response before slapping Marcus’s right shoulder, the look of exhaustion disappeared from the flight lead’s face and was replaced with one of confusion. “What’s so damned funny?”

Smiling even wider than a few seconds before, the new second-in-command of Hawk Team made a jerking motion with his own right hand. “Ya sure you were just signin’ papers, Marcus?”

_ Oh, you fuckin’ asshole, _ Marucs thought. His face went nearly as red as the evening sun before he punched his wingman in the shoulder, teeth being bore before he himself laughed a little. “You’re a jackass, ya know that?”

“Hey man, you’re the dumbass that left yourself open for that one,” Andy said. After a shake of the head, the smile dissipated from both of their faces as a small amount of sand danced across the concrete path they walked on, a reminder of the recent dust storm from the west. Andy spoke again, “So, what’d they actually have you sign?”

As the question perforated his ears, Marcus let out a long breath of frustration. “Man, what  _ didn’t _ they have me sign? They had me run through maintenance paperwork, logi paperwork, paperwork for money― shit, they even had me sign off on two new people joining up to take Wisp’s and Baron’s place!” He idly popped his fingers one at a time as they approached the entrance of Prey Security’s aviation barracks, both stopping at the door before Marcus quickly opened it.

“No shit, already?” Andy asked as he walked into the building first. “Where’re they from? Cascadia or something?”

“One’s from down south in Creole and she’s got a squeaky clean record with only a civilian level pilot’s license,” Marcus answered. He closed the door behind him and followed Andy to one of the subsections of the barracks that housed a small kitchen shared by both Hawk and Buzzard, another combat air team, shared and made extensive use of. Both of the men nodded and waved as they passed the other team’s members.

“Well, you know that they say: clean’s normally an indicator of two things. Either they’re actually clean and just need money or they’re hiding something.” Andy quickly picked out a pair of beers from the refrigerator with one hand and gave them to Marcus, before going in again and taking another two. “Any guess on her so far, at least from her record?”

“Clean, more than likely. We’ll have to teach her from the ground up for combat, but I think the need to pay off college debt’s gonna give her enough motivation,” Marcus said while opening his first beer.

“Oh yea, she’s clean then… What about the other one? Another chick or somethin’?” Andy asked.

“Nah, the guy’s a damned Unioner.” Marcus rolled his eyes as he spoke. “With him bein’ from the north-east of the UAS, we’ll be having a fun time getting him adjusted to the climate. He’s got a spotted record too, hence him being dropped from their navy. Only time will tell if he’ll actually straighten out or prove to be a problem for us, but I think we’ll be able to manage ‘im.” He took another sip of the beer in his hand before continuing on with another sigh. “Oh, and I looked into his graduating flight class out of boredom and apparently there was a real hot-shot pilot in the mix, but she got poached by the Feds for their new Peacekeeper squadron, ‘Black’ or some shit like that.”

“Pft, of course. Hopefully, some of her skill latched onto him but by the way you’re talkin’, it sure doesn’t sound like it.”

“More than likely not, but who knows? Maybe he’ll be a keeper.”

* * *

**Three months later.**

“Fucking hell Kinsman, if you make another pass against that poor bastard, you’re gonna run off of the road and into the canyon!” Garry exclaimed. He looked on as the freshly trained recruit to Hawk Team tried to pass his virtual opponent, in the same spot where he had just crashed before, for the third time in a row leading to his poorly equipped car to plummet into the canyon below. “Fuck’s sake, what’d I tell you ya fuckin’ dumbass!”

The older, but less experienced pilot shrunk away from Hawk’s number three as he was yelled at. “Geez, okay! I just wanted to see if I could make it, I saw it done by an old school friend of mine.” From the defeat screen, he navigated to the main menu and set the controller down on the floor next to him, just before the title of  _ Need for Speed: Carbon _ was brightly displayed on the fairly-dated flat screen TV. “No need to yell so much...” Kinsman finally said, with a very meek response.

“Yea, well if you didn’t suck so much at get-” Garry began to wind up another insult before being interrupted by Andy.

“Better cut that fuse short,  _ Dyno. _ Or else Marcus won’t be so lenient,” he said with nods of agreement coming from the two other members of Hawk Team that were present. “You know how he gets when you start losing it.”

“Pft. Yea, whatever.” Garry coldly shrugged off the warning before plopping down into the spot on the floor that Benard Kinsman had just vacated, effectively trading seats with the man. After getting comfortable in the bright morning light that shone down onto the floor, he picked up the lonely PlayStation 2 controller and began to navigate the menu to load up his own profile data. “I bet he probably couldn’t even play this game for shit.”

At this, Andy scoffed and laughed a little at the notion. “Hell, he’d probably struggle with learning the controller at all, seeing as how he’s never once played a video game before in his life.” It was at that exact moment that every present member of Hawk, and even a couple of stray members from Buzzard, stopped and looked at Andy as if he had just forsaken his own religion. There was an uncomfortably long pause before anyone else spoke up, so long in fact that the intro for the video game still running began to play again as a form of screen saver.

“You mean he’s  _ never _ played a video game before, not even once?” Garry asked. “How the hell has he never touched a controller before?”

Andy shrugged. “I honestly have no clue at all. I think his parents were real restrictive about that shit or something.”

“Jesus, is every stereotype here true or what?” The UAS born pilot interjected back into the conversation once more from the now reoccupied seat that Garry previously had been sitting in. Garry himself was about to respond, but he stopped after he saw who was walking from behind the couch.

“No, hatchling, they aren’t. I’m sure you’ll figure that out sooner or later,” Marcus said as he leaned directly over one of the two new additions to his team. After taking in all who was awake― the three already talking, Lancaster, and Parks, he nodded to the two quiet ones before asking a simple question. One with the look of a slightly annoyed father who had to get out of bed early. “So, what was all of the yellin’ and ruckus about, Dyno?”

It was the third most senior pilot’s turn to shrink away from the conversation as he sat there, the game’s intro having just finished and revealing the start-screen. “I uh, lost my cool a little…” There was a loss of volume in Garry’s voice as he finished his flimsy excuse before perking right back up, as if remembering something. “Oh, by the way, boss: you ever play a video game before?”

The flight leader looked on towards his fellow pilot with a face that broadly indicated he was too tired for whatever was about to come next, but he responded anyways. “No, but I don’t see how this has anything to do with this conversation.”

“Oh, it has everything to do with it!” In a far too swift motion for the morning, Garry shot right up to his sock covered feet and gestured for Marcus to sit down in the spot he was previously occupying.

“I think it’s time for you to learn how to play one.”

* * *

The screaming of a powerful engine filled the rec area of Buzzard and Hawk Team as the group of seven pilots from the later watched in awe as their flight leader effortlessly passed the final opponent of the game in the first of two races. They had first watched him get started on Garry’s game profile on a race that was meant to be fairly difficult to win, even for good players. However, they watched in shock as Marcus managed to  _ barely _ pull off a first place win with his third attempt; the previous two ending early as he struck civilian traffic in the first and caught the corner of a building in the second.

After the race ended and the fresh reprieve from a pair of double tail lights no longer staring at the crowd, everyone’s faces displayed shock or surprise on some level― except for Parks, she simply fell asleep about two hours ago as far as Marcus could tell. As the loading screen maintained its hold on the tv in front of them, Andy finally spoke up and addressed his wingman. “Marcus, have you been holding out on us?”

“What do ya mean?” Marcus replied, looking back at Andy with a small, but honest grin on his face. “This game is just honestly easy.”  _ And it’s not my fault someone was already pretty well into the game, _ he thought afterwards.

“Easy? You just cleared out the last parts of Carbon like they were made for children,” Andy remarked. “Though I guess the game kinda was, but that’s besides the point. Just how in the hell are you so good at this?”

Marcus shrugged in response to the question before speaking again. “I dunno, seemed easy enough to learn it after watching Benard over there fail so much at it.” This elicited a roll of the eyes from Kinsman with Garry slapping his forearm against him with an ornery smile. “It ain’t too different from actually driving, just from a different point of view and with wonky physics.”

“Man, whatever…” Andy laughed to himself and began walking back towards the kitchen area. “We’re just lucky we got the amount of time off that we have, only to find out our fearless flight leader is some hidden video game guru.”

“This is some bullshit. And he's gonna beat it on my fuckin’ save, just to salt the wound.” Garry got up from the couch and followed Andy, Kinsman and a couple others following closely behind with the grin on Marcus’s face growing into a smirk.

“It ain’t the first time I’ve had to finish a fight for ya, Dyno!” Marcus yelled.

“Fuck off!”

The reply got a loud fit of laughter out of Marcus, rousing Parks from her sleep, only for her to ignore the giggly team leader and roll over in the reclined chair she was occupying. After a moment, he recomposed himself and paused the game as he waited for the rest of his team to return from the kitchen with food. This wait was interrupted by his phone ringing. As he picked the flat device out of one of his flight suit’s pockets, he read the name of a Rzeki General he would become familiar with. Answering the call, he’s met with “Hello? Is this Mr. Abrams?”

“Yea, this is him. Who’s calling?”

“This is General Rodriguez. I’ve got a contract for your team.”


End file.
